


Day Drinking

by Hedylogos



Category: The Order (TV 2019), The Order - Fandom
Genre: Drunk Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Floor Sex, M/M, Not Beta Read, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 12:37:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18073532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hedylogos/pseuds/Hedylogos
Summary: Hamish mixes a few variations of a favorite cocktail and reminisces.*Feedback & constructive criticism welcome*





	Day Drinking

Hamish added a dash of grapefruit bitters to the Negroni variation he had been working on all afternoon, each drink progressively a little better along with his mood. All contributing to a pleasant sort of warm drunkenness, the kind where you weren’t slurring or stumbling, but which turned the light golden and softened all the world’s harsh edges.

His bar spoon made pleasant little plinks against the crystal mixing glass as he stirred the bitters into the mix of Tequila Anejo, Cinzano vermouth, plus the Campari which he had carefully infused with grapefruit just for this purpose. Hamish had started his afternoon with a classic three way split of gin, vermouth, and the grapefruit infused Campari, though he had broken from tradition with a grapefruit garnish instead of the traditional orange. Since that first Negroni he had poured a few variations. Switching around vermouths: Cocchi, Carpano Antica, Punt e Mes. Switching base liquors from a classic dry London gin to a mellow Anejo he almost never drank because the other knights tended to get rather silly about tequila.

He poured the latest drink iover a fresh cube of ice, one of those delightfully oversized ones. The silicon tray had been a surprisingly thoughtful gift from Randall. He dressed the drink with a slice of grapefruit floating on the top, covering about half the drink. Not the most elegant looking garnish but it created THE most perfect sensory experience as you were practically forced to inhale a big whiff of sweet citrus fruit even as your mouth registered the first biting notes of the Negroni itself. 

Hamish sipped. The grapefruit hit his nose first, before notes of bitter melon, citrus, pepper, begin to register on his tongue. He let the drink wash over him. He collapsed onto the sofa as if his knees had given out. He balanced the glass on his knee with one slightly wobbly right hand.

His head tilted back. He let the second mouthful of cocktail sit, assessing the drink. He swallowed. He let his head tilt back farther to stare up at the ceiling’s watermarks. Soft brown splotches on the plaster that he often contemplated when squiffy, forming shapes from their soft brown billows as one would clouds. 

Randall’s lips were soft.

The drink rocked slightly as he reacted to his own brain’s associations. Though it was not the first time he had thought such things. He knew they were soft, too. Against his own.

The next drink he took was a quick swallow. His left hand tightened into a fist. Hamish had almost managed to forget how soft Randall’s lips were on his. The way the younger knight moaned, quiet at first then louder, as he had rocked his hard cock against Hamish’s until Hamish had given up on kissing him quiet and just put his right hand over Randall’s mouth. 

He took another swallow. He’d been in a golden cocktail haze that night too. Not that he blamed it on the alcohol. Not on Negronis that night, but the pack’s beloved gimlets. He had made one for Randall who had come in after a rough night, blood still a little smeared on the corners of his lips. In his hair. On Hamish’s fingers when he had gripped a handful of the college student’s hair while they kissed. 

He did not take another sip. His head fell back again to stare at the water stains blooming across the ceiling. Randall’s mouth had tasted like gin, lime, and iron that night: blood. Hamish had not minded any of it. 

No. Hamish had liked it. The blood. The kiss. The way they fell onto each other on the sofa. Hamish took a slow sip of the Negroni, tearing his eyes away from a water stain that looked a bit like a viola to do so. He twirled the glass in his hand to make the cube clink pleasingly in the glass. His other hand had slid up his thigh practically of its own accord to play a dangerous game as it came to rest near Hamish’s dick.

This variation of the drink was his favorite so far. It would be dangerous to go farther than drinking in the Den today, with the other knights liable to pop in any time. Hamish sighed. 

Sipped. They had not thought about getting caught that night: him because the world had been too golden, and if he was truly honest too close to spinning for such unhappy thoughts, or any. And Randall...

Randal has kissed him first. Awkward and bumping noses. Pulling away quickly to blame the gin - as if two gimlets could get a werewolf anywhere near tipsy- but Hamish had shushed him with a kiss back. Soft. They’d both pulled away.

Kissed again. Hamish took control. Pulled on Randall’s hair to tilt his head back so the angle was right. Kissed him deeply, their lips then tongues meeting. He had been the one to push Randall down on the couch, but Randall’s arms had pulled Hamish down on top of him. Close, closer till it was almost too tight and Hamish had felt Randall’s hard dick against his own, both straining at the fabric of their pants. 

Hamish had felt Randall’s heart beating against his own. Fast, like his own. Randall’s mouth tasted of gin, lime, blood. Hamish’s cock had a pulse that matched the thump of his heart. He had wanted to feel every inch of Randall’s skin against his, but they had both still been fully dressed. 

He took another sip. His cock was half hard, now, uncomfortable against trousers, now. Hamish had managed to pull away from Randal then, partway, enough at least for Randall to undo Hamish’s button up and Hamish to push up Randall’s t shirt. 

To slide his hand into Randall’s track-pants, no underwear, and grab his ass as they ground back together: bodies and mouths. His one hand trapped under Randall as it gripped a handful of his ass, his other grabbing a fresh handful of dark hair. 

He took another sip. Randall’s neck had been muscular, strong feeling under his mouth. Against his teeth when an experimental nip made Randall moan Hamish’s name. And ‘harder.’

So Hamish had as Randall had ground even more frantically against him. He’d bitten Randall’s lean muscular throat, each nip making Randal more vocal. Hamish’s left hand was lightly kneading his erection, remembering.

Randal had stiffened under him as Hamish’s bit hard into the junction of his shoulder, tasting blood as Randall’s hips stuttered and he came with a guttural series of grunts that had been surprisingly sexy.

Hamish had pulled away from Randall’s throat, their eyes had met. For one heart stopping moment Hamish had been sure that now that Randall had cum he would push Hamish away. But Randall had kissed him, softly. They panted together, more than kissed really, lips brushing. 

Hamish sipped the drink. The ice was starting to melt enough to dilute it, mellowing the bitter notes, softening the bite of the alcohol more. If he hadn’t been so concerned about one of the other knights, especially Jack, coming in he might have given in and pulled his cock out.

Because as soft as Randall’s lips had been against his they had been better around his cock. Once Randall had recovered, which was quickly thanks to their being werewolves he’d looked at Hamish guiltily, and maybe a bit embarrassed, and noted that Hamish hadn’t come. Hamish was ready to take care of himself, or receive a desultory post cum hand job, but he’d been pleasantly surprised when Randall offered to suck him off.

He set the dregs of the drink on the couch’s armrest. Randall had flipped him over and onto the floor, gently, and Hamish had let him. The younger knight kissed him again than slid down between Hamish’s legs. Hamish had watched Randall pull out Hamish’s hard cock and stare at it nervously, than at Hamish , his face nearly as red flushed.

Hamish rubbed his erection and tilted his head back to stare at the watermarks again. Randall had unsurprisingly admitted to never having sucked a guy off before, his hand around Hamish’s cock. But then he’d leaned down and lapped sweetly at the head, his eyes huge and almost scared when they had met Hamish’s gaze. 

Hamish closed his eyes. The way Randall’s mouth had felt closing hot & right around his cock head, his cheeks pink with fear or excitement. Or both. Hamish had finally taken pity on him and looked away, gazing at the ceiling as Randall slowly began to suck his cock, hand working the shaft, mouth a tight, wet grip on Hamish’s cock head.

Hamish stares up at the ceiling and remembered the way Randall had blown him, nervous and slow at first. Clearly remembering things he’d had done to him and trying them out on Hamish, often uncoordinated. His technique wasn’t down; he’d get so busy doing something with his tongue he’d forget to keep stroking the shaft with his hand or he’d get so caught up trying to do some fancy handjob technique he’d stop sucking or licking the head of Hamish’s cock. Very occasionally he’d get caught up in sucking and take too much and choke. Each time Randall would back off and get timid again. 

Hamish stared up at the water marks. He could feel precum wet on his trousers. Randall had taken his hand and wound Hamish’s hand in his hair. Silently. Hamish had gripped it, not letting himself use it to hold Randall down on his cock as he wanted. But holding him.

‘Make me cum.’ Not a request, and Randall had slid tight and hot around his cock, tongue moving against him, deeper. Hamish held him there, guided his head in just the right rhythm. He had felt his orgasm coming, warned Randall who did not pull away.

He had come in Randall’s mouth, staring up at the water stained ceiling. Randall had sputtered, pulling away slightly, but he had swallowed. Then crawled back up Hamish’s body.

Hamish had let Randall kiss him. Strong, almost chemical salt tang of cum washed over his palate, than notes of juniper from the gin, gentle notes of lime, a faint tang of iron as the kiss deepened. 

Randall’s lips were soft.

**Author's Note:**

> I think I’m the first.


End file.
